


Promises

by AngelFace273



Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Rumpelstilzchen | Rumpelstiltskin (Fairy Tale)
Genre: F/M, Fairy Tale Style, Gen, I keep their looks intentionally vague, I still don't know how to do tags right, Re-imagined Fairy Tale, They all look however way you imagine them, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 06:51:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3519521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelFace273/pseuds/AngelFace273
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We all know the story; a magical man spun straw into gold for the miller's daughter, in exchange for her firstborn child. But what if that isn't all there is to it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises

_The doors of the ballroom slam shut behind her, and the turning of the locks sound like a death sentence. Johanna takes one sweeping look at the mountains of straw that left only enough floor space for a path from the doors to the spinning wheel, and fall to her knees with great heaving sobs. How can any good come from this? If she does nothing, she is sentenced to death. If she manages to find a way to spin the straw into gold, she is sentenced to marriage with a greedy king. It was all well and good to accept that kindly spirit’s help before, when it was only her life on the line, but now…_

_Her sobs all but turn into wails of despair at the thought of the spirit. He has been her only friend these past few days, and the greatest she has ever had in her entire life. He had used magic to complete her tasks and save her life, keeping her company during the nights she was supposed to spin straw into gold, telling her stories and making her laugh, all for the paltry bits of jewelry left to her by her mother. But now she has nothing left to give the elfish spirit if he returned, and while she doesn’t want to marry the king, she certainly doesn’t want to die!_

_“How now, why such tears?” Hiccupping, she looks up to see the very same person that occupied her thoughts reclining on one of the piles of straw, his hands folded behind his head and an impish smile on his handsome face. He motions a lazy hand at the straw and drawls “It all may look like quite the mighty labor, but I assure you, tis nothing at all for this faithful servant of yours. No need to fret!”_

_His smile fades into deep concern when she does not giggle or laugh at his dramatics as he had wanted, but instead crumples her face and buries it in her hands as more tears fall. He swiftly stands and makes his way to her side, kneeling before her with his hands on her shoulders. “Have I offended?” he asks softly as he gently tilts her face up to look at him. Frowning at her red eyes and puffy cheeks, he produces a handkerchief from somewhere and offers it to her. “Here, sadness is ill-suited for one with such a bonny heart.”_

_As she uses the handkerchief to wipe her eyes and blow her nose, the spirit moves to sit next to her on the floor and gently wraps an arm around her shoulders, encouraging her to lean against him. “There’s a good lass,” he murmurs. “Tell me what ails you.”_

_Sniffling, her voice hoarse from crying, she whispers, “I have nothing left to offer you for your aid. No rings, no necklaces, nothing.” Curling further into his side, her voice turns thick as more tears threaten to fall. “An-and even if I did have something, this time the king s-said he’d not only let me keep my life, but also m-make me his br-bride!”_

_Johanna buries her face into his chest, feeling sick and despondent at the mere thought. “I don’t want to marry him!” she cries, barely feeling the spirit tucking her head under his chin and wrapping both of his arms around her. “I don’t want to **die** , but he’s greedy, a-and vain, and he must be s-stupid, for listening to my stupid b-braggart of a father! I hate him! I hate them both!”_

_And then she can only cry. She cries until she has no more tears left in her, and the spirit, her dearest friend, holds her close and strokes her hair, not saying a word. Finally, when all she can do is quietly hiccup, she lifts her head a bit to see that she has almost completely soaked his tunic with tears. But he merely shushes her when she starts to make apologetic sounds._

_“This is nothing, gentle one,” he tells her. “Even I would be in need of a good cry, were I in your shoes. Nothing else matters.” He produces yet another handkerchief from somewhere and helps her clean her face. He looks solemnly into her eyes for a moment, then sighs._

_“If I could, I would fix all your worries in a trice,” he says, gently stroking her hair again. “But as I told you sweetling, when all this began, tis impossible in your world. The rules of my kind require a bargain for magic here.”_

_“But what can we do?” she asks, leaning her head into his hand. “Even if I had something to give you, then I would still have to marry the king. And say that I do; what’s to stop him from asking for more gold even after we’re wed? I refuse to ask you to supply the kingdom with riches forever. It’s not fair to you.”_

_He gives her such a sweet look of affection that for a brief moment she forgets her problems, and he presses a kiss to her forehead. “There’s my bright lass,” he smiles against her skin. “Here now, let us save your poor knees from the floor.” He is all gentle smiles and guiding hands as he helps her to her feet and leads her to the chair next to the spinning wheel. But when she is seated, his face turns surprisingly serious as he goes down on one knee in front of her._

_“As it just so happens, I know of something you can give me in return for my magic,” he begins, looking directly into her eyes. “Three somethings, in fact. One shall allow me to do the spinning, the second shall allow me to guarantee that should you marry the king, he will never bother you.”_

_“And the third?” she asks. There is something heavy in the air, something important, and the world narrows until all it contains is the spirit and Johanna._

_“There is something I wish to give,” he replies, taking her hands in his. “Something that may not make a bit of sense now, but will give you a kind of power. The third shall let me do so.”_

_“If they are truly mine to give, then they are yours,” she says earnestly. An odd look passes on his face, and he brings their joined hands to his lips in order to press a kiss to her fingers._

_“Promises,” he murmurs. “Tis three promises I would ask of you for my magic.”_

_Stroking her hand with his thumb, he begins, “For the problem that is the king, I ask for your trust. I ask that you promise to trust me when I say that I shall do nothing that will cause you pain or sorrow. Trust that there is indeed a method to my madness, even if I cannot give voice to it just yet. Trust me, and your king shall not bother a single hair on your pretty head.”_

_“Of course,” she agrees immediately. “I trust you with my life. I promise I will always trust you.” And though she has only known him for a few days, she means it with all her heart. The spirit has not only been kind, courteous and honest since the beginning, but has treated her like her own person. He has happily answered every single question she put to him with no sign of annoyance or frustration, even encouraged her curiosity, and has always explained why if he did not know the answer or could not tell her. Johanna knows that he will always have a reason for his actions, and that he will always tell her if she asks. She feels completely safe and happy with him._

_He freezes at her words, his eyes snapping up to hers in wonder. As if in a daze, he slowly raises his hand to cup her cheek, his thumb gently stroking her cheekbone. With a smile, she brings her own hand up to cover his, leaning her face into it. He looks almost humbled by her trust in him. Then he blinks and shakes his head in a tiny motion, interrupting the peaceful moment. He stands, releasing her hands and face, and takes a deep breath._

_“Keep this trust in my mind, my lass,” he tells her, looking almost apprehensive, worried. “For the magic of spinning this room of straw into gold, I ask… for the promising of your firstborn child.”_

_Johanna is startled into standing, shock flooding her entire being. The spirit is her dear friend, she trusts him. He couldn’t possibly be asking her to sell her future child for_ money _!_

_This thought gives her pause, halting any attempt to refuse his request. Even if he was the kind of person to ask such a thing, he knows her well enough now to know that she would never agree to it. Besides, he asked her to trust that he would never cause her suffering; being forced to give away her future child would certainly do so, thus betraying her trust. So why ask?_

_She absently strokes her chin in thought, her eyes unfocused. Why would he want her child in the first place? It would be easier to find an unwanted child and take them in, as opposed to bargaining for a possible child that does not even exist yet. Or, even easier, he could simply have his own child._

_Johanna finally looks at the spirit, who has been silently giving her time to think. His face holds a great deal of hope and longing, which tugs at her heart. For some reason, her answer appears to mean a great deal to him._

_She is missing something: she thinks back to his words. The wording of agreements for magic are important to his kind; he told her this the very first night. A bargain that says one thing can be taken for something very different. What he is asking for must be something other than what she initially thought. If she can just find what else his words could mean–_

_He did not ask her to_ give away _her firstborn child to him, she realizes. He asked that she promise him her firstborn child. If she looked at it that way…_

_Her eyes snap to his, silently asking a question she knows he will understand. With a hesitant smile, he reaches for her hand and brings it up to place a gentle kiss on her fingers. Then he presses her hand to his heart, covering it with his own, and gives her a small nod._

_She gazes at him for moment in wonder. Of course he would ask this of her in such a roundabout way. Though the promise is vague enough to give her a way out if she doesn’t want to go through it. The question is, does she want to? Looking inside herself, she suddenly learns something she hadn’t considered before. Taking this new knowledge into account, she realizes that she must choose her next words very carefully._

_“When my belly grows with child,” she says quietly, looking up at him through her lashes and blushing. “I promise they will be yours.”_

_The spirit’s jaw drops in shock, releasing the hand still held to his chest._

_For a few heartbeats, he does nothing but stare at her in a daze. Then his face breaks out in the biggest grin she’s ever seen, and with a whoop of joy he scoops her up and spins her around. “The cleverest and dearest lass in all the world!” he cries over her laughter. He puts her down only to dance her over to the spinning wheel. “I feel I can spin a dozen rooms of straw into gold!” he crows._

_“Hold a moment,” she laughs, tugging him to a halt. “Was there not another promise you wished me to make?”_

_“Ah,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “My practical girl, she who anchors my feet to the earth. Aye, there was indeed.”_

_Turning to face her, he clasps both of her hands in his, and practically beams into her eyes. “I wish to give you a word of power,” he tells her, still grinning. “For this word, I ask that you promise to refrain from speaking it aloud until the time is right. You will know when the time comes upon you; but until then, I ask that you keep the word to yourself.”_

_She shakes her head with a smile. After the last promise, this one was a trifle to keep. “You have my word.”_

_All but radiating happiness, he gathers her into his arms, wrapping them around her waist. He leans his head down to her ear, his lips brushing her cheek. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment as he whispers a peculiar word to her, one that almost doesn’t even sound like a real word. She smiles as he pulls away, repeating, “I promise, I shan't break my silence.”_

_Laughing in delight, the spirit escorts Johanna back to the spinning wheel. “Come then, my darling lass! I should like your company as I work.”_

_“What else would I be able to do otherwise?” she teases back._

 

* * *

 

The court was buzzing as they gathered in the throne room. A strange man who claimed to be some sort of magician had requested an audience with the king and queen, and many suspected why. After all, three years of marriage with no sign of pregnancy, with the king looking faintly worried whenever mention of the lack of an heir came up, perhaps it was time for a bit of magical intervention.

The queen of course, who was well-liked if thought a little odd, never looked the slightest concerned over the absence of any children from her life. The only clue anyone had that she cared at all about the subject was a small wistful smile as she stared off into the distance.

Even now, as she and the king were announced into the room, Queen Johanna looked serene and contented – as opposed to her husband, whose eager energy made him restless in his seat.

When the royal couple was settled, the king signaled to let the stranger come forth. When he did, everyone stared.

No one had ever seen a man like him before. He was tall and lean, with a mischievous glint in his eyes that shone through his polite expression. His clothes would have been written off as simple peasant garb if there hadn’t been shimmery gold sewn into the hems. A few people noted that his ears looked almost pointed.

No one noticed how the queen’s face turned startlingly intense, nor how she leaned forward in eagerness like her husband.

The man approached the thrones and bowed. The king tried to mask his emotions as he asked, “Who are you stranger, and what is your reason for coming?”

The man smiled genially, but fixed his eyes to the queen as he replied, “I am merely a man with some small magical skills, your majesty. I have heard of your, shall we say, fertility issues?” Here his eyes flickered to the king with a wicked grin, mockingly raising one eyebrow. “I thought I should see if I could do something to help.”

The king began to rise, becoming angry, but his wife placed her hand on his arm and interrupted, “We are incredibly thankful for your kind consideration. We shall appreciate any help you can give us. If there is anything you require…”

He bowed again, this time adding a small flourish in her direction. “Merely an hour apiece with each of you, your majesty. Alone.”

Once again, the king opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the queen. “Then an hour you shall have, good sir.”

Everyone was stunned by the swiftness of the conversation, as the queen gracefully rose from her throne and glided over to the stranger, who immediately offered his arm to her. Before anyone could say a word, the queen accepted the arm and escorted him out of the throne room. Once her guards started and hurried to catch up, the court exploded into whispers. The king merely stayed seated on his throne, staring dumbfounded in the direction his wife had gone.

* * *

 

Somehow hurrying without appearing to hurry, the queen and her companion all but raced into a small empty room, the queen ordering her bewildered guards to stay outside unless she called as they went. Once the door closed behind them, she sighed and walked over to the table standing in the middle of the room, carefully removing the crown from her brow and placing it on the table. After a brief pause she turned and faced the doorway with a smile, and merely said, “It has been some time, Rumpelstiltskin.”

The spirit still standing by the doorway visibly jerked at her voice, several emotions passing his face. When he regained control of himself, he smiled crookedly. “I see you are my clever lass still.”

“I am your _tired_ lass,” Johanna corrected him, and she wearily leaned back against the table. Immediately he marched over and placed his hand on her shoulders, peering into her face.

“I should hope you have not come to any hardship,” he inquired lightly, though she could hear the underlining seriousness in his voice, as well as the real question he was asking. She shook her head.

“The king has not touched me, though I suspect he believes otherwise,” she cocked an eyebrow at him knowingly. He merely beamed innocently. When he said nothing, she continued, “No, it is only that being a queen is a great deal like work.” She sighed and closed her eyes for a heartbeat. When she opened them again, she smiled at the concern on his face and reached her hand up to cup his cheek. “I have also missed you a great deal, Rumpelstiltskin.”

Once again, he physically reacted to the sound of his name, his hands tightening on her shoulders; this time however, being so close to her with her hand on his face, he did not restrain himself. One hand moved from her shoulder to wrap around her waist, and to his delight the hand on his cheek immediately moved to bury into his hair, so they both pulled each other together, their lips meeting in the middle.

When they finally parted for air, her eyes were a little glazed, and he was grinning goofily. She huffed a laugh when she noticed his expression, and gently knocked her forehead against his. He lost some of the silliness, but was still grinning happily. “I have been waiting all these years to do that,” he murmured dreamily.

This reminded her of why he was there in the first place. Pulling away just enough to look at him fully, she asked with barely concealed hope, “So you did it? You gained permission from your rulers?” It seemed highly doubtful to her that he’d come only to say goodbye, or some such nonsense, but she had to know for sure.

“The bastards dragged their feet about it,” he huffed. “And they insisted I wait the three years I must stay home before I could return, as is the way of my kind. But aye, I have permission.” Suddenly he stepped away and clasped their hands together, his eyes turning worried. “You do still wish to come with me, yes? I would not force you to be with me in my world and give me children, no matter what we agreed on before. If you wish to change your mind, I still have three days here in your world. I can secret away the gold I made, and you can stay and still be queen-”

She put her fingers to his lips to stop his babbling with a fond shake of her head. She loved her beloved dearly, but he really could be such a dramatic. It was fortunate for him that she wished to be there to bring his head down from the clouds when necessary.

“Of course I still wish to go with you, you goose,” she chided him, and he smiled sheepishly under her fingers.

“I still wish for all my children to be yours, and to be with you for as long as I live,” she continued, releasing his mouth. “In fact, I should like us to go to your world now, if we can.” Having a thought, she grinned impishly at him. “Please take me home, Rumpelstiltskin.”

Groaning, Rumpelstiltskin gathered Johanna in his arms and kissed her once again, magic swirling around them both as she equally threw herself into his embrace.

When the guards cautiously opened the door an hour later, worried by the silence and the time past, they were startled to discover that the room was empty. All that was left was the queen’s crown, left behind on the table.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest story I've ever written with six pages, barring my one multi-chapter, and even then it was pretty close. I hope you enjoyed! I'm sorry if this doesn't make a lot of sense. I was trying to maintain a feeling of fairy tale mystery until the end. This was also a bit of an experiment in writing different tenses and a different style of speech. Please let me know what you think, and don't hesitate to ask any questions you might have.


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